Blood Lust
by The Juliana Down
Summary: Deacon Frost has finally found a direct route to Blade and Whistler. Is he ready for the consequences that come along with his new catch? **NEW ENDING ADDED!!** PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!!
1. A new line to be crossed

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Disclaimer: I don't own Deacon Frost or any other characters from the movie, _Blade._ SARAH is my very own creation, though.

Sarah stretched slightly, her computer chair squeaking as she did so. A soft yawn erupted from her lips, echoing through the darkened room. She glanced upward to the clock hung on the wall. A sigh escaped her mouth. Midnight. She had been in the library for over four hours.

"How time flies when you're bored out of your damned skull," she said lowly under her breath, "time to head home." She stood up, her arms going above her head, stretching slightly. 

Sarah removed her glasses, looking for her sweater. She had large green eyes and one of those peaches and cream complexions usually found in the movies. Her mouth was soft, gentle and a small, slightly turned up nose. Her rich, ebony hair was pinned up, shimmering under the dim light, revealing her small ears and soft, white neck. Indeed, she was a beautiful young woman. Cunning. Smart and kind. 

Her footsteps echoed throughout the dark hallways as she made her way to the building's exit. Once outside, she found the air brutally cold. The wind struck her cheeks, making them sting and her eyes water faintly. Sarah began her stroll home, her arms going around her body protectively. She turned down 32nd street, a local hot spot for club hoppers and late-niters. Already different groups had begun standing in their regular lines, the chattering enormously loud and the music thumping from the brick walls at full volume. 

She pushed through the crowds silently, individuals mouthing light curses as she went. Sarah passed The Black Dragon, a club for the gothic and bizarre club-hopper, her eyes searching the strange groups standing outside of it. A limo pulled next to the curb, everyone glancing to see who had just arrived. Sarah reduced her speed, unaware she was doing so as the car came to a halt. She watched the pack of people emerge from the vehicle, unable to stop herself. 

A man surfaced, a wide grin spreading across his face. Sarah felt a bit repulsed by his leering smirk, her stomach doing an awful flip-flop she didn't enjoy. He turned, his hand going into the black hole of the car pulling out a very beautiful woman. The girl had bleached blonde hair, her blue eyes casting an ice cold stare to the crowds outside of the club. The two individuals waited for the last of their party to appear, their breath making weird ghost shapes in the air.

He came into view, Sarah's breath catching slightly. He was incredibly gorgeous. His hair was a dark brown, a few strands hanging in the corners of his lustrous cerulean eyes. Sarah pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, watching him walk toward his party. His posture was perfect, showing he was indeed a man in charge and someone not to mess with.

"Deacon, man. Can we fucking hurry this along? Dinner's waiting inside!" the guy with the revolting smile yelled over the music. Deacon walked toward the man, adjusting his collar as he did. 

"How many fucking times did I tell you not to hurry me? Just get in the fucking club and shut your trap. We have all night, Quinn." He reached out, his arm moving around the blonde girl's shoulders. 

"Ready for some grub, baby?" she spoke, her hand sliding down his torso. 

"Ready as I'll ever be. Let's move," Deacon replied. They started for the door, his eyes moving again to the club-goers outside. Sarah seemed transfixed on his face, her eyes dancing over ever inch of him. Deacon caught sight of this and stared back. "Quinn, wait here. Mercury, go inside. I'll be there shortly."

The blonde looked over at Sarah, her eyes piercing into her. 

"But Deac…" she complained.

"Get your ass in the fucking club, I said. Now." he said, his eyes not moving from the brunette a few feet away from him. She turned, cursing loudly as she went.

"See something you like, Boss?" Quinn asked, his smile widening. 

"Something like that." Deacon replied, walking toward Sarah slowly. 

Sarah felt her fear snapping, her body turning quickly in the other direction. She began half-running, half-walking up the street. Quinn made as if to begin running after her, Deacon stopping him quickly. 

"I want you to follow her. Find out about her, Quinn. Where she lives, where she fucking buys her groceries. I want to know everything. I need to make sure." he stated, lighting a cigarette.

"W-why? What's so fucking special about a broad who's afraid of anything that comes near her?" Quinn voiced, feeling a bit keyed up. 

"I think I've just found one of the key's to destroying Blade's most trusted friend."

Quinn looked at Deacon stupidly. "Who? Whistler?"

"We've found a direct blood line to him. His niece." Deacon turned, walking toward the club's open doors. Quinn sighed, smiling slightly. He began walking in the same direction as Sarah had escaped, his smile widening as he did.

"Now this is going to be fun."


	2. A silent escape

Sarah's feet pounded the concrete, her heart beating wildly in her throat. She ran, turning blind corners at every street. Finally, she stopped, out of breath, her chest heaving rapidly. Why had she run? Why had she become so frightened by his stare? 

"Easy Sarah, don't get so worked up." she whispered to herself. After a few seconds, her heartbeat had slowed and she felt okay again. Her head turned in each direction, trying to figure out where exactly she had ended up. Thankfully, she was only a few blocks from home and started toward her one room apartment, the evening's events slowly melting away.

She opened the door to her apartment, flicking the on the light hastily as she went in. The living room was charming. A small love seat sat in the middle of the room, the box TV set in front of it. The kitchen was on the right, her bedroom and bathroom to the left. Sarah put down her keys and sighed. 

"Toad? Here kitty, kitty. I'm home." she called lightly. She made her way to the bedroom, opening the door, a small kitten running quickly through the entrance. Sarah gave the cat some milk, sitting down on the sofa, sighing slightly. "What a night." 

________________

Quinn followed the girl's scent, his feet padding aloud loudly. He had seen her stop once, trying to gain balance of the situation. His steps had ceased and he had watched her, as an animal watches his prey. He had pursued her all the way until her doorstep, watching the girl go into the safety of her house, a smirk playing against his lips. Hurriedly, Quinn turned, racing back to the club. 

He looked for Deacon, his eyes scanning over the crowd's massive size. The floor was littered with people lining every inch. Tables staggered the walls, people sitting, drinking. A group to the left started laughing, Quinn spotting Deacon with an arm around a small mousy girl with a leather dress on. Mercury leaned over to the girl, whispering something in her ear. The child started laughing loudly as Mercury played with her stringy hair. Deacon spotted Quinn, flagging him over.

"Boss, you're gonna love this. She lives in an apartment right up the street. She got this fucking little garden set out in front and everything. It's priceless man. You'll have her in no time." Quinn yelled over the music. Deacon played with the glass on the table, looking moodily at the red liquid inside the glass.

"What are ya drinking, lover?" the mousy girl piped up. 

Mercury smiled, her peach lips curving slightly, a bit of white showing. "A bloody Mary, dear. Do you want to help us make one?" 

The girl looked uncertain at Deacon and then back at Mercury. "I don't know, I think I've had too many as it is…" The others at the table smiled evilly. Deacon sighed, turning toward Mercury and the child. 

"Did you know alcohol thins the blood? It makes it not so syrupy. It's just like cranberry vodka." he held up his glass to her face. She looked at him, her smile fading.

"Oh? I-I'm not really feeling good anymore. I'd better go." The girl began to get up, Mercury's hand grabbing her arm painfully. "Ow! Let go!"

"You said you wanted to live on the wild side…So sit down you little bitch before I break your neck!" Mercury yelled. The girl began to tug helplessly away, small screams erupting her throat.

Deacon looked toward Quinn nodding his head toward her. "Just break her fucking neck and let's get this over with." Quinn nodded and advanced on the girl, his strong hands twisting her neck without delay, a quick and painless grunt coming from her. Quinn laid her head against Mercury's forearm. 

"Chow down, and save me some this time you fucking pig." he bellowed over the music. Mercury growled at him lightly and dug in to the girl's pale flesh. Deacon sighed miserably and got up from the table motioning Quinn to follow him. They exited the club, Deacon walking fast. 

"Show me where she lives. I want her." Deacon said, his shirt billowing out slightly from the chilly breeze. He lit a cigarette, his hands flipping away a silver Zippo.

"Tonight?" Quinn asked, puzzled.

"NOW." Deacon shouted. 

Quinn nodded miserably and lead them to her door. They both sat outside for a moment, Quinn leaning lazily against the steps to her door. Deacon finished his cigarette and walked up the steps, his finger buzzing the doorbell twice.

____________________

Sarah jumped slightly at the buzzing, a soft scream escaping her lips. She had been making tea, her hand dropping the cup to the floor. The mug hit the tile, exploding loudly. Her hand went to the top of her head, laughing softly. 

"Will this night ever end?" she said in a shaky voice. She walked to the intercom pressing the button lightly. "Yes?" No answer. "Hello?" Sarah sighed, walking to the coat rack. She slipped on a large sweater, opening the door to her apartment. Her feet beat to stairs lightly as she made it to the first level. She looked out the window, her eyes squinting to see the intruder. Nothing.

Sarah sighed, her fingers clasping the gold lock. The tumbler clicked back, the door grunting open. She stepped out side, her breath clouding in front of her face. "H-hello?" She turned her head to the side, moaning softly. She dreaded leaving the comfort of her doorstep but wanted to see who the guest was. Her feet padded down the cement steps and onto the deserted sidewalk. 

She sighed, her hands playing idly with a strand of hair. Deacon watched her, his eyes panning over her slender body, a deadly smile playing about his face. Her lips were not rouged in any vulgar manner but deeply red by nature. Her long lashes, darkened and curled only with a clear pomade, looked like the points of stars around her radiant jade eyes. Sarah sighed once more and began to ascend her stairs again. 

Quinn moved from the bushes to her left, stepping onto the sidewalk. Sarah turned, her mouth opening slightly. Quinn walked toward her, a smile playing upon his lips. 

"Hello Sweetheart. Can I come up for a nightcap?" Sarah moved away, her hands in front of her slightly. 

"First…who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing at my house?" She advanced a couple more steps, her eyes wild and alert. 

"If you'd just give up…he'll make it SO much more easy on you…" Quinn pulled a small cloth and vial of liquid from his pocket. He saturated the cloth, throwing the bottle to the sidewalk, the glass shattering quickly. 

"Leave now or I'll call the police." she turned toward the door fast, trying to get to it in time to latch the bolt behind her. Quinn ran up the steps behind her, his boots hitting the steps loudly. Sarah cried out, her hands reaching for the door knob. Quinn threw himself forward, a snarl erupting through his lips. His hands fell on her shoulders, pushing her down to her knees, his right hand snapping around, the cloth covering her nose and mouth. Sarah swept her arms through the air, her hands hooked into claws, trying her best to escape. Muffled sounds came from her mouth, her strength weakening as she inhaled in the chloroform. Finally her senses were disabled and she collapsed to the ground, moaning weakly.

Deacon emerged from the bushes, walking up the stairs hastily. "For fuck's sake, pick her up and let's get the hell out of here." Quinn picked up the slumped body lying on the tile steps throwing her over his shoulder. They began descending the darkened streets, turning toward the sounds of the club and their limo waiting.

Sarah's cat jumped from the couch to the window, meowing loudly. Her paw tapped the window twice as she watched her owner's body be carried away into the night.


	3. First meeting

Sarah awoke, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment she felt a wild hope: perhaps she would awake in her own bed, bathed in sweat, shaking, maybe even crying…but safe. Clearing her dry throat, she pushed the thought away. Its charm was deadly, its comfort fatal. She sat up, her head throbbing dully. 

The room was dark except for the large picture window to the side of the bed. The city's night light's glimmered through the glass, muffled sounds coming from the city streets below. Sarah touched her hand to her head, her hair free and flowing down past the middle of her back. She crawled from the soft mattress, pushing back the covers she was moments ago wrapped in. The sheets were silky beneath her fingertips. Her feet hit the ice cold marble floor, making a shiver erupt through her body. She was dimly aware that she was in a different sleeping outfit. A small white tank top molded her slender torso, a little skin showing at the navel. She had been dressed in a black silk skirt, two slits running up the sides of her willowy legs. 

Her eyes adjusted to the faint light in the room as she made her way to the window, pausing there briefly. Sarah looked down, her right hand touching the glass making a warm imprint against the frosty glass. She let out a sigh, her mind racing with confusion. Leaving the window, she turned to see if there was any possible way to get out of this box. 

The room was standard, a large square bed in the middle made from white metal. A door to her left was slightly ajar. She headed in that direction, her russet hair streaming out like a fountain behind her. Sarah opened the door, feeling for a light switch on the side of the wall. A small knob was found and her fingers turned it gratefully. The room was modern. Everything having sharp metal edges and glassy finishes. There was a full-length mirror in front of her, her reflection screaming out to her. 

Her emerald eyes had a gloss to them she didn't recognize, large bluish-black bags circling underneath. Her hair gleamed softly under the fluorescent beam. Sarah pushed her hair over her shoulders, walking to the mirror. She noticed the attire she was wearing, her fingers playing along the soft fabric slowly. Her head twisted around, catching sight of the sizeable tub by the porcelain toilet. She walked to the lavatory, putting the top lid down, sitting quickly. She held her stomach, beginning to rock slightly. She heard a door open in the other room, the lights flicking on in the bedroom. Sarah's demeanor changed quickly, her muscles tensing slightly. 

Deacon entered the room, Quinn strolling in behind him. He looked around the room, his radiant eyes scanning the colorless room. 

"Where's the bitch at," Quinn asked, his head turning toward the way they came in. 

"There's not that many places she could hide in a room like this, you stupid fuck. Check the bathroom." Deacon said, turning toward the restroom. Quinn strode toward the half-open door, his large hands pushing the door open. Sarah jumped form her sitting position, standing against the white wall. "hey gorgeous. Have a nice nap?" Quinn said, advancing toward the young woman. Sarah moved to her left as best as she could, her hands going up in a yielding off gesture. 

Quinn grabbed her shoulders, the smell of booze, blood and smoke coming from his body. Sarah made a revolting gagging sound when he grabbed her, his hands crushing down on her frame. She made a sound, some hurt sound for him to slap her. Her cheek flared with pain and then dull red heat, like stove coals. 

"You like that baby? Quinn scaring you? _Huh?!" _he screamed into her face. Deacon had been leaning against the door of the bathroom, watching, a cold expression on his face. Quinn grabbed the back of her neck, squeezing painfully. He pushed her around to face Deacon. Sarah's hair fell in front of her face, blinding her sight. She let out a hurt sob, her mouth open slightly. Deacon looked at Quinn, his voice calm. 

"Quit fucking around with her and get her ready. Whister needs to know we have her and that she's endanger. You can do that, can't you Quinn? I mean--" Deacon said, his eyes moving over the girl's frame. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her terror filling with every word they spoke. Strange strangled sobs were jerked from her mouth, unable to control herself. Deacon grabbed the girl's hair, bringing her pallid face to his. 

"Shut up…Shut UP. Quit crying, _now." _Deacon commanded, his voice rising. Sarah's head was jerked back, a startled yelp coming from her mouth. Her pushed her as hard as he could out of the bathroom. A startled scream was jerked out of her and then cut off as she tripped, falling to the hard marble. The two men came out of the bathroom, watching her closely. Deacon sighed, turning toward Quinn. "Leave me with her. I can do this my fucking self."

Quinn looked puzzled. "B-but what about my dinner…I mean, Deac man…you promised."

"I promised you a meal, didn't I? I'm not breaking any fucking promises, just come back in a bit…It's not doing any good for her to be in hysterics when we're trying to get some information out of her, is it?" Deacon turned to Quinn, his eyes angry. Quinn sighed, exiting the room, closing the door behind him. Deacon walked toward the girl, leaning down to where she cower on the floor. 

"Now. I need you to answer a few questions for me, okay? Can you do that?" he said in his oddly smooth tones. His voice was musical and beautifully modulated. She found the calm monotones inexpressibly reassuring after Quinn's dramatics. Sarah nodded quickly, her green eyes looking up to him fearfully. His hands slid around her upper arm, pulling her to her feet. 

"Now, what is your name?"

"S-Sarah. Sarah Whistler." Deacon nodded.

"And are you related to Abraham Whistler?" Deacon asked, his face a few inches from hers. Sarah eyes narrowed slightly. Her uncle. She hadn't spoken to him in years. How in the hell would he know about her uncle and what in the hell did it matter anyway.

"H-how did yo--" Sarah started. Deacon's hand rocketed down in a wide sweeping orbit and struck her face. She let out a squeal of pain and felt a trickle of blood running warmly from the left corner of her lip.

"Just answer the fucking question!" he snarled. She only looked at him with a painful, childlike solemnity. "Answer me, or you wont live to see another fucking day, you hear me?"

"Y-yes, he's my uncle. But I haven't seen him in a long time. I think the last time he saw me was when I was thirteen." Deacon finally nodded, his eyes dancing over her shapely body. 

"Well, he might not recognize you at first, but I'm sure you can revive his memory, right? Let's get you cleaned up first though." Deacon brought her into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.


	4. The frightening truth

She felt a splash of fear as he closed the door. Sarah started just the faintest bit, evident by the twitch of her shoulders and the sharp way her eyes turned in his direction. She was beautiful. Sweet and naïve and hateful. She taunted Deacon with her candid distrust for him. It made the familiar hunger rise in him, a grumble running to his stomach welcomingly. 

It made him want to touch her, explore every inch of the hidden secrets she had. He wanted more than anything to sink his teeth into her neck, feel her stiffen under him. Maybe her hands would claw at his back, her nails sinking into his flesh, a few muffled moans vibrating through her, before she weakened, her blood coating her torso and long, silky brown hair. He made no attempt as of this moment, but only walked toward her, brushing her hair back from her neck. 

The skin was smooth, porcelain-like. He could see the ripple of flesh tighten as he touched her. A smile played against his lips, making him experience that recognizable longing for the taste of her skin. 

"What do you want with me…" Sarah asked finally, breaking the silence. He had been gazing over her features for what seemed like eternity. 

"You are a guarantee that your uncle, Whistler, will send Blade to me." Deacon tilted her head up swiftly, looking at the cut on her lip.

"W-who's Blade, a-and why is my uncle involved with this?" Sarah asked, her eyes closing as he touched the cut on her mouth. Deacon sighed miserably.

"Do you always ask so many fucking questions? You don't need to know everything anyway…" he trailed off. Deacon stood up, leaving Sarah sitting on the toilet. He exited the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She winced slightly at the loud bang, standing hesitantly. She looked in the mirror, examining the cut. Her lip had begun to swell, and the blood smeared in an ugly line across her jaw. 

She went to the sink, letting cold water run freely. Cupping her hand under the water, she brought it to her face, sucking in a hiss of air as she tried washing away the red smudge. She clasped her hands together and filled them, bringing them to her mouth. She swallowed the water, feeling it coat her throat like liquid satin. Her hands were a long way from perfect, delivering only sips, slurps and rills instead of a steady stream. Sarah wiped off the excess water, turning around. She walked into the bedroom, trying the door the men had entered and exited. Locked, of course. 

A yawn was yanked from her mouth slightly and she sighed. _Sleep. _Sarah thought tiredly. _Yes, sleep was the answer. Maybe things wouldn't be so confusing in the morning. _The girl made her way to the bed, slipping into the sheets slowly. Sarah thought perhaps she would lie awake, letting her body roll around the mattress restlessly, but she slid smoothly toward sleep, as if on a slightly inclined frictionless board.

__

_________________________

Sarah woke sometime in her slumber, her body shuddering helplessly. She had turned toward the window, woken by a large rumbling sound. Her eyes widened as a large shield of metal began shielding her view of the city. Scrambling from bed, she ran to the window, looking out at the early morning, not even dawn. The night had ran into early, early morning, the sun rising bit by bit in the shadows. The metal sheet was blocking her view of day, her body moving to see the last of the outside world's light before making one last giant clink as the piece of iron slid closed. 

__

Breathing hard, Sarah looked blindly through the darkness_, _spinning around to find her bed. She crawled back in, sighing as she did. Oh, things were incredibly confusing. She shut her eyes tightly and wished for sleep. But sleep was a long way away.

_________________________

For what seemed like infinity, Sarah slept. Soft moans escaped her mouth as she dreamed. She was roused by the door clicking open, Mercury entering slowly, a pair of clothing in her pale hands. Sarah blinked slowly, moving to prop herself up on her elbows. At the same time, the sheet metal clicked back on its hinges, rolling upward again. Sarah's head snapped in that direction, a puzzled look on her face. The sun had set an hour ago it seemed, the first of the million city lights clicking on. Mercury watched her, a grin emerging on her face.

"Puzzled, Darling? It's the daylight. Vampire's cant take the daylight. Unless of course, you're Blade. The lucky bastard gets the best of both worlds." Mercury sat on the bed, staring at the brunette opposite of her. Sarah pulled the covers up to her chin. 

"W-what did you say?" Sarah asked wide-eyed. Mercury threw back her head and laughed.

"You didn't know? Well, that's changed. Now, get dressed. You have a party to attend." Mercury stood, throwing the clothing at Sarah. 

She gathered the clothes, slipping out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. 

"No, here Sweetie. In front of me." Mercury yelled, her smile fading. Sarah swallowed lightly, and put the clothing on the bed. She turned around, her back facing Mercury. The tank top came off, her bark back showing slowly. Mercury licked her lips, moving toward her. She put one hand on Sarah's back, stroking the skin. Sarah jumped, moving away from her, covering herself. 

"Now, if you weren't so important to Whistler, I'd have some fun with you myself. I'm sure Deacon would love to watch." Mercury said, licking her fangs. Sarah felt fury and embarrassment rise up inside her. She grabbed the shirt off the bed, slipping it on. The shirt covered one shoulder, baring the other nakedly. She slipped from her skirt quickly, putting on the long jean one Mercury had brought her.

Mercury walked toward her, a hair band in her hand. "Deacon loved when a woman's neck shows. Bring your gorgeous fall of hair up for him, will you, Doll?" 

Sarah grabbed the band and pulled her hair into a messy bun, a few stray hair falling to her neck. Mercury grabbed her arm, dragging her to the door and out, where the party waited. 


	5. Homecoming party a grand buffet

The two women emerged from the room, Sarah's eyes exploring the building around her. She could hear music, faint and muffled coming from above. Mercury brought out a pair of silver handcuffs, clinking them around Sarah's cream-colored wrists. Mercury grasped her arm tightly and began their journey. The hallway they were walking down was unadorned, the carpet a bland gray color, the walls a monochrome white. They came to the end of the hall, Mercury pulling her to the left where a pair of elevators stood open like a gaping mouth. 

Sarah watched as Mercury punched the 'up' button quickly. Her eyes gazed around her, finding nothing but endless hallways with closed doors. She swallowed dryly, Mercury glancing at her briefly. 

"Deacon was right, you _are_ sensual in your own way." Sarah said nothing, only made her eyes trail to the floor. "A bit self-interested, but that probably comes with the territory." Mercury smiles evilly, her small pearl white fangs glinting briefly. "You don't say much to people, do you? Just a spoiled, selfish little bitch." Sarah turned her eyes to the blonde, her face expressionless. 

"I just don't chitchat with monsters," she spoke with intense, smoking sarcasm. "And certainly not bleached-blonde whores who think they're something better than they really are." Mercury's smile faded, a scowl being replaced. She backhanded Sarah fast, the back of her palm striking her cheek, making a flat sound. 

Sarah's breath caught in a harsh sound that was too outraged to be a gasp. 

"He's going to make you so sorry for that." Mercury growled. The elevators doors opened slowly and she drug the brunette in. 

_________________________

Deacon heard the soft ding of the elevator, and the quiet whoosh of the doors opening. He watched Mercury bring Sarah out, a gloomy expression on each girls' faces. He stood from his spot, two girls mouthing complaints as he did. Mercury brought Sarah to Deacon, pushing her forward. 

"I see you two have gotten along well," Deacon chortled, "Sarah, welcome to your homecoming. Everyone's here to see my newly found prize." He winked at Mercury, her face still bland. Leading Sarah through the crowd of people, his hand caressed the lower part of her back, a tingle emerging up her spine. Everyone crowded around her, gaping at the fresh meat. Sarah's eyes were wild, the color shimmering under the dim lights of the living room. She glanced to her left, spotting Quinn grinning at her. 

Deacon led her to a chair by a set of sliding glass doors. Sarah looked out, her eyes moving over the glass-like pool, smiling slightly at the yellow rubber ducks floating on the surface. He pushed her shoulders slightly, signaling she would have to kneel before him. She did as he wanted, her eyes watching everyone in the room. 

Deacon lit a cigarette, Mercury sliding onto the seat next to him. She handed him a silver key, her lips inches from his. He licked softly, turning to Sarah. His hands brought her wrists up, unlocking the left shackle, and clicking it onto his armrest. He looked at her, a smile appearing softly. 

"I can't wait for you to see what we have in store for you," Deacon said in his beautiful, flat voice. Sarah glanced at him doubtfully, his finger's sliding under her chin, tilting her face up more. "Don't we have a surprise for our little pet here, Quinn?" he yelled across the music, he smile widening.

"Oh yeah, Boss. It's a hell of a surprise! I cant wait to see the look on her face!" Quinn cackled, his beer spilling a bit onto the floor. The party went on, Deacon talking about a man named Dragonetti and his demise. Sarah watched the creatures walk around, drink, laugh. She wondered to herself what made them so horrible? 

Nothing that she could see. A bit juvenile, yes, but not anything out of the ordinary. They didn't stalk around with their fangs glaring, or worshipping evil deities. She wondered, what exactly it would be like to be one of them, not a piece of meat for later feeding. In fact, when she thought about it, they were a bit erotic, sensual. They were charming, modern. They had an aura around them that made the room seem comfortable, almost dream-like. 

She found her eyes wandering toward Deacon's face. His ashen skin, the translucent shadow they cast. A few times she had envisioned herself in the place of Mercury, his hands around her shoulders…and then in her bed, the sheets binding them together, his strong hand caressing her side, the other holding her neck roughly, a soft moan escaping her parted lips as he nipped her ears, neck, breasts. 

Her fantasy was broken apart into hazy fragments when Deacon clapped his hands together, motioning for a man to open the doors to the room. Sarah set her attention to the events, her back straightening quickly. A young girl about Sarah's age was brought in, her face uncertain and excited. Deacon stood, straightening his collar. He walked to the child, taking her hand. 

"Are you ready?" he asked her. She nodded quickly, grinning nervously. The two walked out to the pool of black water, the glass doors sliding shut. Deacon took the girl to the edge of the building, turning to her. Sarah looked around the room. All eyes watched Deacon and his prey. Smiles erupted from different vampires, some looking at Sarah, other mesmerized by the show out on the patio. She turned her attention to the platform outside right as Deacon grabbed the girl's neck roughly and dug into her neck. Laughs erupted from everyone, some standing quickly. 

Sarah let out a terrified scream, pushing herself against the black chair she was chained to. The blood from the girl's neck gushed into the air, staining Deacon's mouth and hair. It saturated the ground and water close to them. The dying girl flopped around as if she were only a cloth doll, her arms flailing around at Deacon's tearing. Cheers erupted from the crowd of watchers, fangs being bared as they did. 

Sarah looked away, her mouth gaping, petrified by the massacre going on a few yards away from her. Mercury grabbed her face, turning it roughly toward the show. A giggle bubbled up from the blonde's mouth, her fingers digging into Sarah's shrieking jaw. Unable to help herself, Sarah glanced outside. Deacon dropped the girl into the pool, the water turning a instant faint pink, the rubber ducks floating away from the new water toy. He opened the glass doors, his hand and shirt leaving a bloody smudge as he walked through.

Mercury unchained Sarah from her chair, laughing heartily at the girl's fear. Deacon moved toward Sarah, her shrieks gushing through her mouth. He leaned down, grabbing her wrists tightly. Her screams stopped when he did, her jade eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. 

"Welcome to my world." his low voice rumbled. Bits of flesh and blood streamed down his chin, neck and shirt. His eyes shimmered evilly, his teeth covered with gore. He stood then, motioning for Quinn to stand her up and take her to his room. 

"_Is this a party or what?!_" Deacon yelled, his arms raising to the crowd. The others cheered loudly and continued the fun. Quinn walked to Sarah, picking her up like a rag doll. He threw her over her shoulder, walking toward the elevator's doors. A few vampires sneaked outside to the floating corpse in the water. A red-head jumped into the crimson pool, her white shirt and skirt staining a bright fleshy pink as she swan toward the carcass floating face down.


	6. A gray rose

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The doors to the penthouse slid open. Deacon led Quinn into the room, instructing him to chain her to the side of the bed. Quinn set Sarah down, the girl shivering violently. His hands clicked the handcuffs back on, her back sliding down against the wall to the chilly floor beneath her without a word. She had been in hysterics when they had first entered the elevator. When she was instructed to be quiet, and did not obey, Quinn smiled at her with that repulsive, almost leering grin, grabbed her hair and had socked her square in the eye. Pain burst out from the right side of her face and shrouded her, whitely radiant, in the center of a nova.

She had since been silent since then, more unplugged from the shock. Deacon wiped at his neck and chin stained with half-dried blood. Deacon stalked around the room back and forth, finally turning toward Quinn, his face animated with color. Quinn noticed how jumpy and edgy he looked, watching him trail around the room.

"I want you to get all the equipment ready. Everything has to be exact when I present her to Whistler. Go to Blade, make him an offer he can't refuse. Have my cycle ready. We will make the offer as soon as you come in contact with him. Get one of my familiars to do the job. Mike or Ryan should be able to do that." Deacon instructed him, pointing a finger first at Sarah and then at Quinn.

"W-what's up Deac, I mean, shit man. You're fucking walking around like something just bit you in the ass." Deacon stopped his pacing, glaring at Quinn, fangs bared. 

"Get the fuck out, Quinn. Leave before I slit your fucking throat and stain my floor." Quinn back reeled quickly, almost hitting the door on his way out. Deacon turned to the girl on the floor, smiling as he knelt close to her. 

" After I get cleaned up, we'll be able to spend some time together, okay?" He traced a blood-stained finger down her arm, goose bumps emerging from her skin. She shivered, imploring him with her emerald green eyes. For some reason he found himself in a squatting position, staring into her shiny eyes. He couldn't avoid that gaze, dark and cold in that pale, expressionless face. Always seeing too much. But perhaps, not quite enough. Astonishingly enough, Deacon instantly grabbed the back of Sarah's head, pushing her lips to his roughly.

Sarah gave a muffled yelp of shock and disbelief. She stiffened underneath him, making Deacon want to bite down severely on her delicious mouth, her mordant and coppery blood filling his throat. He pulled her hair into a tighter fist, forcing her to be pressed against him even more. He thought he heard a sort of sigh of pleasure leak through her lips and pulled away quickly, letting her hair go. 

Her face was tranquil, the cheeks having a high color to them, her eyes dreamy and wistful. He turned, walking into his own bathroom, stripping off his soiled shirt, throwing it into the chrome trashcan. His heartbeat was irregular, beating much too fast for his own good. He looked down at his pants, unbuckling them slowly. 

______________________

Sarah felt an exploding sense of longing shoot through her veins as he pulled away. She had immediately wiped her mouth on her arm, panting lightly. A sort of whimper popped out of her mouth as she looked at her blood-imprinted wrists. She kept seeing the girl's face, expectant and energized yet so afraid of the things to come. 

Her stomach lurched horribly. The water was switched on in the next room, Sarah's head snapping toward the noise. She sighed miserably, looking up at her clasped wrists. She studied the metal, puzzled. There had to be a way to get out of the damned things. Sarah yanked hard and quickly at her bonds, a swift bolt of pain going through her wrist. She sucked in a hiss of air, her eyes narrowing. Anger rose up inside of her, making her begin to tug uselessly against the bed, her teeth bared. She didn't even hear the water shut off in the next room, or Deacon's chuckling going on from the doorframe of the bathroom. 

"Having problems, Beautiful?" he spoke, making Sarah jump quickly. "I hope you're not trying to get out of these handcuffs…because we're going to have some fun before I give you up--if I ever do.." She watched him walk toward the door of his bedroom. He was wearing black silk sleeping pants, the curve of his hips showing slightly. "And I honestly think you wont want to be set free even if I did let you go." Sarah laughed softly.

"You flatter yourself, she said in the most aloof manner, thinking she was very successful in appearing cool on the outside while inside she was a web of conflicting emotions. Deacon looked over to her, an apathetic look on his face. 

"Oh? Honey, there are tons of women who would kill to sleep with me. I mean, come on, I'm a fucking deity. People worship me. Look around you. I have the world in the palm of my hand. I can have anything I fucking dream. And I always get what I want…" He looked down at her, his hands hanging limply by his sides. 

Sarah sighed, shaking her head. "Oh? You call those group of monsters out there, worshippers. Huh uh. You are dead wrong, Deacon. They _use _you. They also _fear _you. And that is not the same as worshipping. Believe me. Fear means that they would betray you anytime anything got a little out of control. And it will. Nothing lasts, nothing. Your little charade is going to come crashing down on you. It always does when some self-important, vain asshole thinks he's running the show. Because the real truth is that you're just a juvenile, moronic idiot who's had one _WAY _too many acknowledgments." She finished, the words drying quickly in her throat. The words had just poured from her mouth as if the floodgates were left open. Her cheeks were suffused with a raw blush. Sarah regretted everything that was said. Her tied hands were trembling, her stomach upset, and she was starting to get a headache. 

"Oh, I'd love to teach you some manners before you die," he said under his breath. Deacon's hands fumbled with the lock of the cuffs, finally clicking one hand off, freeing her to be tussled like a rag doll. His hands jabbed into her shoulders, dragging her up the wall to a standing position. Deacon's eyes were wild with anger, the corneas a bit red at the corners. 

"No little smart-mouthed bitch is going to talk to me that way. You're lucky I haven't drained you of all your pathetic existence as it is," he snarled into her face. Sarah could smell his cologne mixed with his rage. It was a warm, musty smell that made her more careless, made her want to sneer in his face…made her want to play with him. Get him worked up enough that _she _could use _him. _

"You're breathing on me," she said and pushed him blinded. She stuck out one leg behind him and shoved as hard as she could. He uttered a surprised yell and went over, but he shot out both hands as he toppled and snagged them on her shirt, pulling her on top of him. They began rolling around on the floor, small grunts coming from each. Finally, when the wrestling stopped, Deacon on top, Sarah pinned to the floor beneath her, her fingers relaxed from their death grip on Deacon's arms. He held her down, his chest heaving for air. 

"Nothing you do is going to save you, Sarah Darling," he chortled. "I'm ten times as strong as any human…Although I must say you've been fun to tease." Sarah growled underneath him. "Now, for a little more…risky fun. How do I get _you _up on the bed?" 

She felt her heart jump to her throat. His right hand held her chest down, the other trailing down her hair to her neck, and then softly to her breast. Sarah gave a deep shudder, her skin wrinkling into goose bumps. Deacon chuckled. His voice was soothing, rich. She closed her eyes, his fingers tracing her curves, ending up at the waistband of her skirt. Something inside her suddenly popped like an overstrained tendon. She bucked her hips and back sharply upward, flinging his hand off. His lustrous eyes widened for a moment and rapidly his arms were around her, pulling her off the marbled floor, into his fervent arms. He carried her to the bed, placing her softly between the coverlet. 

She looked up to him, her heart racing inside her chest. His glistening fangs stood out as he surveyed her. 

"It's time to stop playing these immature games. You're mine, for now. And I wont have any puerile female in my bed," he voiced, his face becoming stern. He walked to the wall, turning the knob. The lights dimmed slowly, giving a faint sight to everything. He made his way to her side, one knee going to the side of her, the other rubbing against her thighs deliciously. 

She felt fear rise up in her and was suddenly buried under a wave of desire so hard and unexpected that it did more than startle her; it frightened her. And desire was a little too coy, wasn't it? What she felt was simpler, an emotion whose hue was utterly primary. It was pure and simple lust. He lifted her back up with his easy, amazing strength. She put her arms around his neck, the rest of her body seeming to melt. 

His lips found hers, his fangs biting down slightly, making a droplet of blood appear. She moaned out, her warm breath traveling over his face. 

"Don't kiss me again," she whispered, clinging harder to him and pressing his body to hers. With one quick motion, her shirt slipped off her body, his hand rushing to her zipper, ripping it down roughly. Her groan was replaced with a whimper as his hot palms slid her panties down, and off still hooked onto one ankle. Deacon placed her hand against his side, guiding her to help him off with his pants. Her fingers slid down his side, the clothing coming off like liquid. 

"I don't think so," he said and lifted her higher. He slid his free hand between her shoulder blades, pulling her onto his bare lap. As she started to slip, he pressed her downward, a rumble of desire and tenderness erupting through her parted lips. Suddenly she was rocking back and forth, and he was _helping _her rock. She felt as if she were in some wonderful swing, with her feet on the clouds and her hair in the stars. 

She began calling his name out deliriously, her hair falling against his forearm in a tickling torment. He growled lowly at the height of his pleasure, slowly kissing the sweet white line of her throat. Her orgasm hit like a sweet exploding bullet, rushing both ways form the center of her. Her eyes fluttered open, her mouth slightly ajar. And as he came, his nails bit harshly into her shoulders, bringing blood. Deacon swept her higher, a moan escaping both their mouths as it ended. He held her for a moment and then lay her down, moving quickly away from her, disappearing into the darkness. She felt her hand reach out for him as he departed. 

Then there was silence, broken only by the irregular beat of her slowing heart. A large gray rose was opening in the air before her slit eyes. The petals spread and spread, and when they closed around her again like the dusty wings of huge colorless moths, blocking out everything for awhile, the only clear feeling she had was one of gratitude and sleep.

***********!!!************

More to come soon! I promise!


	7. Disagreements by moonlight

******DISCLAIMER****** I don't own any rights to the song mentioned in this chapter. It is copyrighted by Disturbed (and off the Queen of the Damned soundtrack) ---It was just such a perfect song for the motorcycle scene-- ;P

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Sarah woke the next night, the sound of the opening door stirring her from her slumber. Deacon stepped in, his mouth open slightly. He walked to the edge of the bed, setting down a change of clothing for her. She narrowed her eyes, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She was dimly aware that she was naked under the sheets. 

"Get dressed, it's time to take a little drive out to the beach. You haven't been outside since I've kept you and to tell you the truth, I have a big case of cabin fever." Deacon mouthed. He motioned to the clothing and turned toward the door. "Grab a shower. I want you looking nice and neat when you're submitted to Whistler." He stopped, his hand lightly resting on the door handle. His voice was low and lackluster.

"You were acceptable last night," he uttered and left the room. Sarah swallowed hard, her stomach turning squeamishly. She felt polluted, crass. Her hands found the clothes and she almost sprinted toward the shower, dragging half the bedding off with her. The hot water burst onto her frame and she seized the soap, lathering her entire body quickly. Sarah scrubbed her skin roughly, feeling as if she _had _to clean every inch of her. She grasped the knobs, shutting the water off with a squeak. She stepped out into the misty bathroom, toweling off. 

Her outfit was not surprising. Mercury's clothing was broad-based, cosmopolitan in every way. Sheik. Sarah slipped on a black v-neck shirt, and then put on a long jean skirt, two slits up each side. As she towel-dried her hair, Deacon opened the door, sighing.

"Hurry up. We're not going to be visiting a fucking beauty pageant. Just leave your hair down and let's go. Your relative is waiting." Sarah turned, her face bland under the fluorescent lights. His hands slipped around her upper arm, dragging her through the room and into the hall. They made their way into the elevator. Quinn met them on the way down, his eyes dancing over Sarah's body every few minutes.

"He said he'd be there. No Blade, no nothing. Just the old man at our mercy. Apparently he really cares for the little slut." Quinn said with a chuckle. Deacon smoked unresponsively, his eyes staring at the metal doors. 

"I don't want this to blow up in my fucking face, Quinn. You hear me? He'd better be there, or it's your ass." Deacon said, turning toward Sarah. He tightened his grip on her arm, her eyes connecting with his. "Ready for a ride, Sarah Dear?" The elevator came to a smooth stop and she was led to a parking garage. Deacon sped up, leaving Quinn at the elevators doors. Deacon pulled her toward the left, out of sight. Sarah looked toward the far wall, spotting the vehicle she would be riding on. A 2002 Kawasaki ZRX1200R, black Zrex leaned against its stand. Two helmets waited. Deacon turned to Sarah, pulling her closer to him. 

"Now, Im not going to be chaining your hands. I drive fast, and if you so much as _think _to try and jump off this thing, they'll be scraping you up off the sidewalk for several miles." He threw the helmets off the seat, climbing on. He motioned for her to follow, and she obediently did. Her hands slipped around his middle and he started the bike with a roar, heading for the water. 

__

I'm over it

You see I'm falling in the vast abyss

Clouded by memories of the past

At last I see

Sarah watched as the city flew by her, cars and people of all types ripping past her, the only sound she could hear was the wind, the bike's engine and her own deep breathing.

__

I hear it fading, I cant speak it

Or else you will dig my grave

You feel them finding, always whining

Take my hand now, be alive

Deacon made his way through the darkened streets, the cold nipping at their faces, his hair blowing back from his forehead. Sarah's ahir streamed behind them like a wave of gold, some whipping across her cold face. They made their way outside the city limits, passing along the deserted highway toward the meeting place. Sarah's hands tightened around his chest, bringing her closer to him. 

__

You see I cannot be forsaken  
Because I'm not the only one  
We walk amongst you feeding, raping  
Must we hide from everyone?

The bike made it's way onto the sand, as close as he could come to the water. Sarah sighed, her breath puffing out in front of her. Deacon slipped from the bike's seat, helping Sarah off with two hands. He held her in his embrace, the two of them waiting for some sort of contact. Deacon leaned closer to Sarah's ear, breathing heavily. 

"If you get out of this, and he doesn't want to approve, I think I might have a go at you. See how good you taste. I got a piece of that last night, but just think how great the sex would be with the both of us rolling around in a pool of your own blood." Sarah swallowed hard, beginning to shiver. She turned her face toward his, her eyes calm. 

"Don't get your hopes up, Deacon. It wasn't that enjoyable last night, so why in the fuck would it be enjoyable a second time?" His hand squeezed her arm harder and she sucked in a hiss of air.

"By the way you were screaming my name, I seriously don't think it was a dreadful experience on your part." Sarah let out a cry or protest and pain. 

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER," Whistler yelled, limping toward Deacon from the back. He spun Sarah around, his left hand snatching a handful of hair quickly. His right arm held her to his body, his fingers stroking her exposed cleavage. Deacon laughed nastily at Whistler, making him halt quickly.

"Now, Whistler. We have a score to settle. It's fast and painless. Bring me Blade and I'll give you Sarah," he shrugged slowly, turning his attention on her. His hand came up to caress her face, his fingernail growing unexpectedly long and sharp. Deacon dug the tip into her collarbone, a little stream of blood erupting through her lacerated skin. She let out a moan of tenderness, her eyes watching Whistler. "it's as easy as one, two, three."

Whistler shook his head. "I'll bring you Blade, you fucking leech. You better hope to God I don't personally find you, because that fucking hand will be coming off at the wrist." Everything suddenly came to agonizing slowness. Sarah watched as her uncle grabbed the shotgun from under his dusty overcoat. She could feel Deacon's hands pushing her _away _from him, and suddenly she way flying through the air, away from the two men, her sight momentarily blurred by the dark waves coming at her face. She hit the sand and water with a splash. It struck her, struck her hard like a locomotive, driving the wind from her. An expression of helplessness and shock--it would have been funny if it hadn't been so grimly awful--spread over her face. She looked up, dimly aware of Deacon dashing toward the bike and her uncle pulling the trigger. 

Deacon started the bike quickly, driving it through the sand and spinning it on Whistler, the sand raining against his sight, shielding him from seeing where Deacon actually was. Sarah stood finally, unaware of what to do. She watched as the bike headed toward her, a cry slipping from her soaked mouth. She turned at once, startled. It was the same race as before, only it had the quality of a nightmare, where you can only move with the most agonizing slowness no matter how hard you tried to go fast. But the nightmare was reality, and Deacon's arm swept her up and onto the bike, skidding down the beach quickly. Sarah screamed, her hands reaching behind him, her vision of her uncle fading as he tried running for them. 

The two drove quickly back the way they had came, only this time a soaked girl sat in front, her hands hooked into claws, her hair billowing around her. They raced back to the building, people staring after the motorbike talking about riding to beat the devil. How wrong they were…


	8. The apocalyptic fight

The bike bulleted its way through the night, chasing its high beam, finally to the familiar garage they had exited from. Sarah sat in silence the last leg of the trip, her eyes glossy, her hands shaking. She had come so close, _so close, _to being rescued. And what had her family done? He had threatened Deacon, _threatened _him for fuck's sake. She couldn't understand the gravity of the situation. It wasn't possible that she was back here in this stale garage with something that could easily be called a parasite. 

Deacon slowed the vehicle and came to a complete stop, putting the motorcycle on its kickstand. He climbed off and clutched Sarah's arm brutally. She clasped her hands on her skirt like a little girl. She wouldn't look at him. Tears slipped down her pale cheeks. 

"Get off the bike, Sarah Dear and maybe I wont hurt you too bad when we get upstairs. I'm very fucking angry right now…and hungry too so I wouldn't want to piss me off." 

"Yeah, no one could reject handsome, terrifying Deacon," she said. "It's got to be a joke. Only it's not. So what you do, handsome, terrifying Deacon is let go of my goddamn arm now."

His forehead was suddenly divided by lines, and a dark flush flared on his pallid face. How insane that sounded…but what else was there to say? Her head began to thud. Big, whacking pains that were in perfect sync with her heartbeat. 

"Regular little spitfire, aren't you?" He spoke to her as if she were a child who had misunderstood some very simple case of cause and effect. She said nothing. Now she looked at him, her eyes wounded, pleading, inarticulate. _You can't make me do this, _her eyes said, _but please, don't. Don't, can't it be over? _Her make-up was running down her face in muddy tracks. He didn't mind that. He liked of liked seeing her that way. It was messy, but there was something sexy about it too. Slutty. Kind of exciting. He dug his nails in deeper and yanked her from the bike's seat, pulling her to the elevator. 

____________________________

The doors slid open on a party. It was the regular scene as before, but more relaxed. Everyone looked up to see Deacon and Sarah, Quinn spotting him from across the room. He pushed the blonde sitting in his lap off to one side. Her hair was short and choppy, mostly shot through with lodes of the purest gold. Quinn walked to Deacon smiling. 

"So, did it go well?" Quinn said chuckling. His breath ranked of beer and blood, making Sarah shrink away momentarily. Deacon looked at him, his eyes searching Quinn's face. 

"Yeah, it went pretty well. It seems like I will be feasting tonight." Sarah stared at the ground, shivering. Quinn laughed hard, doubling over for a second. Mercury got up from her chair, walking toward the three of them. She licked her fangs softly and stared at Deacon. 

"And I will be joining the buffet?" she smiled. Deacon only looked at her and turned, pulling Sarah back into the elevator. He shook his head, smiling. That grin. That ugly, mean-spirited grin. 

"No." He answered as the doors slid silently shut. She felt wild laughter bubble up inside and stifled it, biting the side of her cheek. Deacon glanced at her, He saw how fine her eyes were. How lucent. Oh, she was some kind of fine-looking, with her dynamite body and that gorgeous fall of hair. But she was weak, weak somehow. The elevator came to a stop and he tugged her forward toward his bedroom door. She uttered a shaky, semi-hysterical laugh. Deacon pulled her inside and closed the door, letting her arm loose. 

They had entered his room and closed his own door when he turned toward and said, "Sarah Darling?"

She spun around to look at him, inquiring, and he unloaded on her pretty good, his hard open palm striking across her cheek hard enough to make his palm tingle, hard enough to rock her head to the side, making her stumble towards the bed. 

"Your mouth. Your smart, sarcastic mouth. Sometimes I get so tired of you." He crossed the room in his quick and agile way, hearing her hoarse angry cries become hiccups and moans. Only when he grabbed her did the silence come. His hands ripped at the shirt she wore, splitting the fabric down the middle. He tugged at the material, finally through the tattered remains to the wall across the room. Her anger rose in her like a toxic black cloud. She growled and swiped a clawed hand at his face, raking down his cheek. He cried out loudly, giving her a precious extra second. 

There was no paralysis in her movements this time. She threw herself to the side and then onto her stomach as she hit the floor, fumbling behind her for the door handle. He was snarling and grinning, drool running out between his fangs in thick strings. He landed where she had been, turning to her. Deacon finally leapt at her. Her muscles were working at cross-purposes, and she felt an agonizing flair of pain in her back above her right shoulder blades as something sprained. 

He lunged forward, her hands slipped, and suddenly he was _biting _her, biting her bare stomach just below the white cotton cups of her bra. Sarah uttered a low, feral cry of pain and shoved with both hands as hard as she could. Now she was turned the other way, her head pointed toward the bed, blood trickling down the waistband of her skirt. Sarah's screams echoed loudly in the white room, and suddenly everything seemed too bright, the blood streaks against the floor seemed too white and she felt her head growing muggy. 

She tried crab-crawling toward the bed, her skirt ripped up the sides, one creamy white thigh exposed. Deacon drove forward and his teeth closed on her lower thigh, a few inches above her knee. Sarah voice a long, piercing shriek. Her leg was covered in blood, her _own _blood and her eyes searched the room, fixing on the trail of smears she had made while the grappled. The bed's corner jabbed into her neck and she pulled up as much as she could, finally feeling the soft, white coverlet clenched in her hands. Deacon stood up, his shirt saturated in crimson. He walked toward her, finally launching himself to the bed, falling squarely on top of her. 

His teeth were snapping only inches from her neck and she could smell a dead world on his breath, terminal sickness, senseless murder. Finally she felt his mouth close on her carotid artery, biting down ruthlessly. It was if someone had slung a medicine ball right into the soft, vulnerable flesh of her shoulder. She could feel him bite down harder--it _HURT_--and then she had him by the shoulders, her fingers sinking into his flesh trying to hold him away from her. She could hear the quickening sob of her respiration. Fury and pleasure ran across Deacon's mad eyes in dull semicircles. 

Faces. Voices. Rooms. Scenes. Books. The terror of this moment, thinking, _I am going to DIE._ And finally he let up off her, his eyes connecting with hers. She had scrawled deep scratches in his back. His blue eyes shimmered briefly as a runner of blood fell off his chin. It dangled for a moment and then fell on her wounded stomach, just below the navel. 

"The sky is crying," she whispered, her voice a dusty, croaking sound in her throat. "and the teardrops are for my lost past." No sense in the words. It was all right. She could feel herself fading back, fading into that shock world, those mists in herself which she had never suspected until now. She only looked at him with a muddled sort of recognition, and then her eyes closed again. 

Deacon felt for her pulse and got something that was weak, thready, and rapid--not really a beat but only simple spasms. He nodded and lifted himself from the dying girl. His head throbbed with a low drone, his veins pulsating with her blood. He blinked twice and walked to the bathroom, his hand against his temple. The water shot out as he started a shower, stripping off his drenched shirt and pants and stepped in. The steam rose around him, and he could feel the hot water working on his muscles, loosening them. By the time the water had begun to cool, he was feeling dozy and comfortably full and Sarah slipped through the living barrier and into the world of the undead.

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Getting good huh? Wait for the next chapter!


	9. Where shall we dine?

Sarah woke, her eyes opening slightly. The sickness had tightened down on her, sinking into her nervous system like a ravenous grassfire, all dove-gray smoke and low rose-colored flames, as it continued to go about its work of destroying her established patterns of thought and behavior. She now sat up, her hand going to the raw bite on her neck. By the time the lacerated punctures had finally clotted, her thigh, stomach, neck and sheets she lay in were tacky with her blood. Flexing her leg brought the quality of the pain up from the throbbing ache to a sharp, glassy beat. 

Sarah made her way off the bed, pulling the coverlet off with her. _Whoa, _she thought, clutching at the wall with her right hand. She tried desperately to keep her knees from buckling. _Hold on, Sarah. Hold on. Never mind the darkness, the darkness with pass. _Moonlight flooded on her frame in a cold and uncaring flood of light. She had understood just how afraid a person could be, how fear was a monster with yellow teeth, set afoot by an angry God to eat the unwary and unfit. 

Coming back to the real world as something else made her mind waver. As if you were some invisible painter adding color to the world, bringing it first up to full and then to overfill. Colors shrieked at her, everything looked plastic and phony. 

The entire spectrum of the aural world was hers. She heard the chimes of heaven and the hoarse screams which up rose from hell. In her madness she heard the real and the unreal. And she heard something: music. It was very faint, almost not there, but in her ears, almost eerily attuned to the night now, picked it up. She looked toward the ceiling, the movement sending complex spiral-sparkles of feeling through her cramped muscles. The tingles faded away to nothing at her neck, stomach and thigh and she made her way to the door with soupy, just-waking-up dismay.

She grasped the door handle, yanking against it roughly, small sobs of despair erupting through her mouth. A deep severe pain at the base of her neck, just above the place where her left shoulder started, put a stop to it. Sarah recoiled, hurt, her hand going quickly to her neck. Her eyes scanned the room, and then her own blood-soaked body. She felt her stomach knot up and she ran for the bathroom, her hands plastered to her mouth, her eyes wide and starry. She made it, barely, and tossed everything up. 

When her stomach felt better (but her legs were atremble again) she turned on the bath water, filling up the tub. There was a small sponge sitting on the tile and she grasped it, brushing it against her bare skin, the water turning a bright and ugly rosy pink. She stepped out of the water, her brown hair limp and beginning to form itself into the desired waves she had always wanted. She looked into the mirror, studying herself. The bite marks seemed to be smaller, more defined. The wounds didn't seem to be as bad as she thought. 

Sarah made her way to the closet on the left of the bathroom. She found remnants of Mercury and slipped them on. All silk, the outfit made Sarah feel sexy. She rolled her hands open and closed several times, liking the way her skin felt. This feeling was so incredibly bizarre. She didn't know what had happened to her during her blackout.

Yes, she supposed she did know, somewhere inside, but she didn't want to let that knowledge step into the spotlight which was her conscience mind. Some truths were simply too harsh to be acknowledged. Too unfair. 

She could feel that deep, homesick dismay again, welling and welling, like an unstaunched wound but brushed the thought away without so much as a look back.

_Better not think about the past. The past is gone. And by the way, Sarah Dear, did you know the sky is crying? _Sarah jerked out of her gaze toward the opening bedroom door. Mercury walked in, her hand on her hip. She smiled slightly and walked toward Sarah. Her hands flipped Sarah's hair back over her shoulders and she growled lowly. 

I see we have a new member to our little family," Mercury's hands found the neck bite and she laughed. "He really did a number on you, my fine girl. But of course, he did on me as well." Sarah's patience stayed at a nice level, and she found herself numb toward Mercury. 

"If you think you frighten me, Mercury, you're very wrong." Mercury leaned against the wall, her blue eyes shimmering slightly. 

"He'll use you. He _always _uses people." Sarah smiled at this and approached her, her face inches from Mercury's. Sarah studied her, as if she were an insect rather than a vampire. 

"No, my _fine _girl. He used…you. He'll _always_ use you. I could see that he does, that night when you three walked into the club. You're nothing more than a third or fourth course to him. How _does _it feel to be an entrée rather than the final meal?" Sarah said, her voice dropping a little. She walked from her then, out the door and into the hallway, leaving Mercury miserable.

Sarah pushed the door on the elevator's button, hearing the imperceptible _ding! _of the elevator making it's trail down to the apartment. Had she ever had this sense of sound before? She didn't know. But she desired all her new features. Found them irresistible. And the hunger…my _God _was she ever hungry. The elevators doors slid open, revealing Deacon leaning against the elevator's back wall. His eyes opened slightly at Sarah's new personality and looks. Her eyes had taken on a low flame, burning into his, he hair was flowing freely down her shoulders, and her curves were clearly seen through the silky tank top she wore, her long legs hidden by the long skirt.

She entered the elevator, her eyes stuck on his. His mouth opened softly, and he began to say something. Probably something that would ruin her mood, her entire new world. She stopped his words with her soft pale finger. 

"Shh…we have eternity to talk. Now…I'm hungry and the night awaits us…Where shall we dine?" Deacon grinned evilly and pushed the down button, his eyes glimmering as the silver doors shut on the sight of Sarah embracing Deacon, her pearl white fangs flickering. 


	10. Bred into his bones Desire

Deacon broke the kiss slightly, pulling Sarah away from him. She stared at him, a look of aggravation surfacing on her face. He ran a shaky hand through his locks and backed away from her. 

"Well, well, well. This is an interesting situation, isn't it? What am I supposed to do when Whistler finds out about his precious little jewel?" Deacon voiced, his eyes tranquil. Sarah laughed, her hands moving to her hips.

"Whistler isn't my problem now. I have left the old me behind. That life's gone. Poof. And you took it from me. I am yours now. I know you've wanted it this way ever since you set your eyes on me." Deacon stared at her, shaking his head. 

"I hate to break this to you sweetheart, but all you were was food. That was it. A plan that turned tainted. Find someone else to attach yourself to. " He turned his gaze from her, his voice trailing off. The passion, the heat, had fled. She felt cold and a little sick to her stomach. Dull resentment boiled to her face. She grabbed his jaw roughly, turning his face to hers. Her voice rose to a thunderous pitch.

"Look at me! Don't turn your fucking head and pretend you don't know what Im doing, what Im saying! How can I find anyone else when you've been bred into my bones and are at times part of my flesh! Your blood runs fast when mine does, your eyes burn when mine do, don't deny it!" Deacon grabbed her hand roughly, his nail digging into the fleshy part between her thumb and index finger. A runner of blood began to drip into her palm, and he brought her hand to his mouth, licking it slightly. 

"You want me so bad? Then you had better be able to be at my beckon call. When I say and where the fuck I say. I told you baby, no one can resist a deity." The doors of the elevator stood open, and Deacon tugged Sarah forward to his bedchamber. 

______________________

The next night, Deacon pulled Sarah from her slumber. His hand clamped tightly around her arm and shook her roughly. Sarah awoke, her mind struggling sluggishly to find out where she was. She made out that Quinn was standing by Deacon's side, a smile on his face. 

"Wake up, Sarah Darling. You have someone here to see you." Deacon whispered into her ear. She sat up, the white silk nightgown clinging beautifully to her curves. Her hair spread over her shoulders like a wave of dark chocolate. Sarah uttered a shaky, semi-hysterical laugh. She moved from the bed, Deacon's arm guiding her lightly down the carpeted hallway. They emerged into a sort of glass room, her eyes widening. 

A man lay on the floor, his face bloody and bruised. His hands were tied behind his back, small moans erupting through his mouth. 

"C-cordell?" Sarah said, her voice wavering. Deacon brought her to the doors and let her in slowly. She stood for one moment, her eyes transfixed on the dying man on the floor. 

"This is a present for you, my China Doll. You said you were hungry…so there's your meal. Eat up." Deacon pressed his hand to the glass and began to walk off. Sarah watched the two men exit the hallway and then slid to her knees. The man on the floor wriggled slightly, his eyes going to hers. For a moment she seemed as milky and translucent as clouded glass. Sarah growled slightly and then advanced, the smell of blood cloying in the glass chamber. The rest took on the maroon tones of a nightmare. 

What seemed like an eternity later, Sarah sat back against the glass, her lips and chin slicked with blood that was black under the fluorescent bulbs. Her mind was still flying with that same unnatural, exhilarating speed after she had drained the man on the floor. A papery little chuckle escaped her mouth as she opened her eyes, her head spinning. Blood streaked the floor from where she had drug the body. There was a transfixed look in the dead man's gaze that made her head spin. She felt her stomach slosh around dejectedly and turned to the glass walls. 

Sarah tried remembering why she had attacked the body so savagely, her mouth snapping open and closed like an uncontrolled monster. But, it was all gone, dissolved into a sticky mess like a wet bundle of paper, the memory unreadable. Here she was, stuck in a glass torture chamber with one of her victims laying across the room from her. Her jaws clamped together, the muscles on her cheeks standing out. It was all like a crazy picture drawn in blood, a surrealistic etching of a person's face drawn back in terror and pain. 

An iron scream came to her lips as she opened the glass doors, making her way into the darkened hallway. Sarah felt the human in her cry out, beg for her to get out, get out _now. _Obedience was so strongly ingrained in her that she began half-running, half-walking to the elevator. She heard voices to her left and began shuffling faster, her stomach flip flopping grotesquely. Deacon made his way around the corner, a loud scream echoing to Sarah. She let out a yelp of surprise and ran into the elevator, punching buttons. Deacon sprinted to the doors in time, jumping in with her. The doors closed. 

"Where in fuck's sake do you think you're going, Sarah Darling? You're not thinking of leaving…are you?" Sarah cowered in one corner, her hands on either side of the silver hand rests. His fist suddenly buried itself in her soft stomach. She screamed, suddenly submerged in an ocean of pain. Unexpectedly, the elevator's doors came sliding open, Sarah darting out into the open hallway. A few feet away, a word glowed above her head like a sign from above, _EXIT_. Sarah laughed hoarsely, shambling toward the doorway. Deacon roared at her, tackling her to the rug. Her fury and terror all began to bubble up inside of her, finally exploding, her knee hiking up quickly and connecting squarely into his balls. He rolled over, a grunt coming from him as he went. 

Their eyes locked, and Deacon saw something in the dead girl's gaze that scared the hell out of him. Absurdly, the words _I take it back! _trembled behind his lips. Except that was nothing you said to something weaker than you. Sarah managed two more tottery steps and then began running for the exit. She made her way into the dark night, the stars twinkling over her head. He bawled her name twice more, and each time she flinched away from the sound.

Five blocks away from the building, Sarah walked with no sense of where she was going, when she realized that her feet were still bare and she still had her blood soaked nightgown on. And suddenly, she began to laugh. The stars were out, and how bright they were! She tilted her head back and laughed up to them, a wild exhilaration washing through her like a tidal wave that lifted and carried and cleaned. A powerful voice spoke to her in some inarticulate way of desire, although what it was it desired she neither knew nor cared. 

It was enough to fill her wonderfully with her inexistence. _Desire, _she thought, and inside her that tidal wave of exhilaration seemed to gather speed, rushing her onward toward some inevitable crash. She laughed up to the stars, frightened but free and alone, her terror and happiness and animation as sharp as pain and as sweet as a ripe fruit, and when a light came on in an apartment on the block she was walking down, she smiled softly, her white fangs glistening in the moonlight, and fled off into the night, still laughing. 


End file.
